The Town with Red Snow
by Scottish Hills
Summary: This is the story of a soldier named Alistair who is adopted into a town after being mortally wounded. There he learns to enjoy life, creates lasting friendships, and will face many hardships, big or small, with his fellow townsfolk as they live in this war torn country. (hiatus)
1. Prologue

**I am very excited to be able to share this with everyone! This story is very fun to write and I have done lots of research on weapons, medicine, diseases, etc. in the 1800s. There will be lots of humor and stuff later but obviously since this is the prologue it can't be all smiles and laughs, its got to leave the reader hanging and grab your attention!**

 **There are so many characters in this and all play roles in shaping the story. I am almost certain that there is a character in here that's one of you guys favorites, if so I would love to know!**

 **Don't forget to co** **mment and enjoy the story :)**

 **Characters:** Alistair (Scotland), Arthur (England), Alex (Fem!Norway)

 _Italics - thoughts_

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 **Prologue**

The Eternal War, the war that would never end. That's what it had been named. At first it was just little fights here and there in the northern territories, but that would all change in the span of 1 year. During that time Russia, Finland and Germany weren't on the greatest terms. With the tension thickening between them, one unknown country decided to try and assassinate Russia's leader, Ivan Braginsky. They were successful.

The Russians were outraged and blamed both Finland and Germany for the death of there leader. The only problem was that they were innocent. The two countries denied being involved in the assassination, but that only fueled Russia's anger. They declared war against Finland and Germany, not taking into account the impact it would cause on the people surrounding them.

5 years had gone by since the beginning and many countries knew they were to be dragged into the calamity that the three nations had caused, and eventually choose sides.

Spain, France, Netherlands, Belgium, Italy, Austria-Hungary and England support Germany. All the Nordic countries support Finland. And the Russians had the three Baltic countries, Poland, Belarus and Ukraine supporting them.

England however, has been able to avoid much of the warfare within their homeland. No major battles have occurred there, the only fights being small with a low death tolls. Even though there is no immediate concern for a fight breaking out many soldiers are still stationed there, most being in the northern part of the country. The reason for this is because the northern area is the most vulnerable since it is exposed with no allies near it. Enemies like Norway and Denmark could easily cross the North Sea and invade England. Knowing this some people have fled to the south seeking refuge from the war...

Thousands of lives have been lost since the beginning, but the war is not over yet. The Russians have still not forgotten their hatred and need of revenge for their dead leader, letting this unnecessary war and heavy bloodshed continue for over 30 years with more to come...

 **February 9th, 1803**

Alistair trudged through the forest, fresh fallen snow covering it in a veil of white. He had lost his battalion when their camp was attacked by those Russian dogs. He was away at the time and had come back only to find the camp in ruins, the bodies of his companions littered the ground as they laid there- broken, bloody and lifeless. Now he was alone. He clutched his rifle, knuckles turning white, eyes burning with rage and unshed tears. Just the thought of his fellow countrymen being slaughtered made him sick to his stomach. Shaking his head, he tried to rid the idea from his mind. _I don't have time to be angry. Right now I need to find a place to rest. Anything place do at this point._

Alistair continued to walk through the forest, snow crunching beneath his boots. Eventually he reached a small clearing, his feet numb from the freezing snow. Sighing in relief, he leaned against a thick, sturdy tree taking a short, but well needed break. He stayed there for a moment or two before pushing himself from the tree, resuming his hike. He only made it a few feet away from the tree he suddenly heard a loud, painfully familiar BANG. A sharp pain spread through his left thigh. Looking down he saw the red liquid that no soldier ever wanted to see gushing out of them, blood. Seeing this he finally registered what happened, someone was trying to kill him. He barely had enough time to limp away as another BANG echoed through the forest, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder. Letting out a pain filled cry he dropped his gun, clutching the newly formed wound. _Where is this bastard!?_ he thought desperately, eyes moving franticly in search of any sign of the sniper. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move, but it was too late. The third and final shot rang out. He didn't even know where it hit as his legs buckled underneath, dropping him face down in the cold snow. His blood mixing with it, staining it a deep red. He smiled as he lay there. _This is how I go out, huh? I wonder why that bastard took so long to kill me... Not like it matters though, no one's gonna care if I die. Hell, even the folks back home are probably rejoicing over my death… oh well, I hope Hell isn't as fucked up as it is here…_

 **Meanwhile on the outskirts of a nearby town...**

Arthur was cutting firewood when he heard something that sounded a lot like a gunshot. Looking up from his work, he scanned the forest. There wasn't any movement he could see, but that didn't mean no one was out there. "I might as well check it out," he sighed, resting the axe against a small pile of firewood. Making his way over to the edge of the forest he heard the same sound again, this time he was positive it was a gunshot. He knew that no one in town was out hunting and no one from outside came out this way. Stealthily he moved through the forest, listening for anything that would indicate where the sound was coming from. As if on queue a third shot rang out, echoing throughout the forest. Arthur now knew where the sound had come from. He silently crept through the snow covered forest toward the clearing.

As he stood at the edge of the clearing a look of horror and fear consumed his once calm face. There in the middle of the clearing was a soldier, but this soldier wasn't up and walking around. No, he laid there face down in red stained snow, limbs splayed out and his gun only inches away... _Who could have done this?_

Arthur snapped out of his trance and rushed over to the man, kneeling beside him. His face paling as he watched the snow around the man continued to turn red. "Oh god, oh god what do I do!" he asked, a part of him knowing he would receive no answer. Slowly slipping into hysteria, his mind beginning to feel cramped and ached as more and more thoughts whirled around it like a hurricane.

In the heat of the moment he slapped his cheeks, ridding himself of the fearful thoughts controlling his mind. "Ok. I can do this" he assured himself, taking deep breath.

After successfully calming himself, he carefully flipped the man over onto his back and gasped when he saw three bloody gunshot wounds. Ignoring the blood, he quickly rested his ear against the man's chest, listening for any signs of life. After what felt like an eternity he heard a faint beat. Arthur held back tears as he continued to hear the hope filled sound of a heartbeat.

"He's alive! Oh thank god" he whispered leaning back in the red stained snow. Now he just needed to get him back to the cabin... easier said then done. Gripping the man's ankles he slowly dragged him back towards the cabin, dodging trees as they went, leaving footprints and red snow in their wake.

Arthur was pretty sure it took him at least a good thirty minutes to drag the man back home. After awkwardly pushing open the door with his back, he successfully hoisted the man into the spare bed. He stood there for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. _I should probably check if he's still alive. After that journey I wouldn't be surprised if he already kicked the bucket, he thought._

Leaning over once again, he rested his ear against the mans chest, smiling when he heard a familiar rhythm. It was faint, but it was still there and continued to beat. Standing up he watched as the mans chest slowly rise and fall, his breaths now short and labored. _At least he's breathing,_ Arthur thought, brushing back the soldiers fiery red hair as he placed his hand against his forehead. _Shit! he's burning up!_ clenching his teeth he quickly ran out of the room and into the kitchen. Grabbing a cloth off the table he soaked it in cold water. Ringing out the cloth he then ran back into the bedroom, placing the cool cloth on the soldiers forehead. After doing that he grabbed one of the extra sheets and torn it into long strips, creating makeshift bandages. Arthur carefully wrapped each of the bullet wounds before bolting out the door and down the path, kicking up snow as he ran. By the time he got to the clinic he was breathing heavily. With his remaining strength, he threw open the door. The doctor looked up with concern.

Eventually, he managed to get the message out, in between labored breaths, "Alex, I... need your... help"


	2. Chapter 1 - The Englishmen

**Character notes-** Alistair (Scotland), Arthur (England) and Alex (Fem!Norway)

 _Italics =_ thoughts

 **I'm sorry if Alistair's Scottish accent is a little weird, I'm still trying to get the hang of it. (If any of you have tips on how to write it pm me, I would love the help)**

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 **Chapter 1 \- The Englishmen**

 **February 10th, 1803**

Alistair's eyes blinked open, but he quickly closed them as a bright light greeted him.

"Is this Hell?" he mumbled.

"I would certainly hope not," said a voice with a profound British accent. Alistair groaned. _Of course there is an Englishmen in Hell._

"Nae, definitely hell" he thought. Just then there was a small gasp.

"Now that's just rude!" The voice snapped. It sounded as though it was right... next to him.

Now Alistair was up. His eyes shot opened, his vision blurry. He could still make out the faint outline of a man standing beside him. He launched himself at the man, but unfortunately didn't get as far as he hoped. An overwhelming pain shot up his left leg and through out the rest of his body. Wincing, he remembered the reason for such pain. He had been shot.

"Easy, you don't want to reopen your wounds" the man cooed gently pushing him back down. "I will be back in just a minute." The man then left the room, leaving Alistair to reflect on what had happened in those few minutes.

Blinking a couple of times, his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings. Just then the man walked in again, this time holding a glass of water and a small loaf of bread. Alistair could now see him clearly, he had messy blonde hair, green eyes and last but not least a pair of rather large, bushy eyebrows. He opened his mouth to say something about them, but stopped when the Brit shot him a 'don't you dare' kind of look. _Creepy. It's like he knew what I was going to say..._ he thought to himself.

The man's face returned to its calm expression in a matter of seconds. "I'm sorry, but this is all I have" he said, setting the food and water down on the bedside table. Alistair was surprised as he helped him into a sitting position.

"Alex, our doctor should be back soon to redress your wounds" the Brit sighed. "I unfortunately cannot bandage wounds, even if my life depended on it." He gestured towards the makeshift pieces of cloth that crisscrossed Alistair's thigh, shoulder, and abdomen.

"Well I could care less, I'd rather be dead anyway" Alistair said coldly, reaching over to grab the bread beside him. He'd rather die than be saved by some prissy Englishmen, but it's not like he could kill himself now. Looking down at the bandages once again, he frowned slightly. _Well the man wasn't lying when he said he couldn't bandage wounds._

The Brit was taken a back by the man's response. Did he really wish he was dead? As he asked himself this there was a knock on the door.

"That must be Alex," he said under his breath, rushing over to get the door.

Alistair looked up from his bread only to see a women enter the room. She had long light blonde hair, held back by a cross shaped barrette on the left side of her head. Her dull blue eyes looked cold and distant.

"Yer the doctor? But yer a women?" he blurted out, as the Englishman took a sharp breath.

Alex on the other hand, was smiling. However the same could not be said for her eyes. "Oh so you think I can't be a doctor just because I'm female? Are women not capable of doing a man's job?" she asked, slowly walking towards him- the sinister smile growing. Alistair began to regret what he said.

She was now standing in front of him, her fake smile contorting into a snarl. "Well I think otherwise," she spat, punching him in the face. "Way to make a first impression Alex," the Brit mumbled to himself.

Alistair winced as he rubbed his nose. He was glad to find it was not broken, but the pain was soon forgotten and replaced with a mischievous grin. Oh, this was going to be fun. "Did I really offend ye that much?" he taunted, his gaze fixated on the doctor.

Alex's eye twitched. "Honestly, it didn't. I just wanted a reason to punch someone."

"I doubt anyone would believe that, lass."

Her hands clenched into fists and her dull blue eyes were consumed with rage. "You know, I can put those bullets back in whenever I want" she hissed.

"Ooooo so scary" he chuckled, waving off the threat as if it were nothing. Truthfully though, he didn't feel like getting shot again anytime soon.

Their pointless argument continued, both forgetting Arthur was in the room. Said person had now lost all hope of ending the argument in a civil way. He took a deep breath and roared,

"Enough! Can't you two children shut your bloody mouths for one god damn minute?!"

The room immediately fell silent, the only sound being Arthur's heavy breathing as he tried to regain his composure. Alex and Alistair both turned to stare at him, eyes wide with shock.

"Good, now I have your attention" he huffed. "Alex you are here to make- wait we don't even know his name yet" Arthur realized, turning his attention toward the other man.

"The name's Alistair" The Scot grunted.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying, Alex you are here to make Alistair better, not worse. So having said that, was it really necessary to punch him?"

There was a pause as Alex chose her response. "Probably not" she grumbled, avoiding his gaze. The Brit had a soft smile tugging at his lips, proud that his friend had come to an understanding.

"Even though he deserved it" she added. The Brits smile fell into a frown, unsure if he should agree with his friend or scold her.

He sighed. "You know what, fine- maybe he did deserve it," Arthur admitted, turning towards Alistair who was now scowling.

"Ye know it's not nice tae gang up on people" the red head muttered, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh shut it. Now Alex I will let you do your job," the Brit said, seeing Alex give a slight nod before she began to clean and re-dress the Scot's wounds. After she left, the two men were left alone in the room.

"I would like tae know the name o' my so called savior," requested Alistair.

The man looked at him and smiled. "The name's Arthur."

 **Arthur**

Later that night Arthur recalled the events of the previous day. He had found a wounded soldier with fiery red hair, a bad temper and Scottish, of all the things he could be, why did he have to be Scottish? _Well done Arthur you just had to save a barbarian_ , he thought angrily. The Brit yawned, he had forgotten how exhausted he was. After staying up all of yesterday looking after the Scot had taken a toll on his mind and body. The fact that he had ran all the way to the clinic as well didn't really help.

Sighing he stumbled into his bedroom. Slipping on some night clothes and then collapsed onto his bed. Rolling onto his back he stared at the ceiling. He could hear the soft sound of Alistair's snores next door and wind blowing outside.

Closing his eyes Arthur drifted off to sleep...

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! hope everyone had a great Christmas (or whatever holiday you happen celebrate). In this chapter Alistair seems to have made a new enemy. Poor Alistair, you just can't catch a break can you :( But on the bright side we are introduced to a new character, Alex (Fem!Norway). I'm sorry if she or any of the characters seem a little OC, I'm trying my best to keep true to their personalities. In the next chapter we are introduced to two new characters, not going to tell you though! Its a surprise!**


	3. Chapter 2 - Meeting some Bakers

**Character notes-** Alistair (Scotland), Arthur (England), James (New Zealand) and Jett (Australia)

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 **Chapter 2 \- Meeting some Bakers**

 **February 19th, 1803**

It had been about two weeks since Alistair was saved by Arthur. He had been cooped up in the small cabin ever since then and was starting to get twitchy. Not only was he not able to leave, he hadn't even been allowed to leave his room! _I really needed to get out of here before I go crazy,_ he told himself. Alistair threw the blankets off his body, exposing himself to the cold air. Lifting himself into a sitting position. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a groan. His body was stiff from not moving for so long. _It's a good thing Arthur's gone. He'd probably get all pissy if he found out I was up and about. My wounds are healed enough, so I don't understand what the big Idea is_ , he thought bitterly. Sliding himself off the bed, he attempted to stand but his legs gave out, and he fell onto the not so soft floor with a string of curses. Wincing, he pushed himself back up, this time holding onto the wall as he did.

"Ok. Let's try this again" he muttered and slowly started to hobble along the wall towards the door. Pushing it open, he entered a large room that looked like both a sitting room and a kitchen. The sitting room had two armchairs on the left side of the room facing a small, stone fireplace. The kitchen, on the other hand, looked like it was barely touched. Up against the far wall of the kitchen there was a small black stove. Next to it was large wooden tub. On the wall to the right, there was a cabinet filled with china. A table with a couple of chairs was in the center of the room. _Hmmm I wonder why the kitchen looks so new... maybe he's a clean freak._

Turning back around he headed towards his room. He was about to go back in when he noticed there was another door next to his own. Curiosity took over and he slowly inched toward it, pushing the door open just enough to poke his head through. It was another bedroom, Arthur's.

"This must be the lad's room. Hmm. Looks exactly like mine... way tae have variety Arthur," he mumbled to himself. "Well, now that I'm up I might as well get dressed."

Alistair closed the door behind him and shuffled back to his room next door. Upon entering the room he went over a chest at the end of his bed. Kneeling down in front of it he quickly he pulled it open the lid, revealing an assortment of clothing. After rummaging through the chest, he eventually pulled out a dark blue jacket and tan pants. _These will have to do,_ he thought. He then reached over and grabbed his boots, sliding into them as well.

"All ready to go." He walked over to the front door and opened it, revealing a not so happy looking Arthur.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" the Brit hissed. Alistair took a sharp breath. _Shit! I was so close to freedom!_

"I'm going out tae stretch my legs, ye can't keep me in here forever." He watched as the Brit's face went red with anger before returning to normal. _Well that was weird.. but it is Arthur._

Arthur took a deep breath before answering. "Fine, I guess you have a point. Don't start rejoicing just yet though, because I'm going with you." he added, earning him a groan from Alistair.

"Oh, don't even start," Arthur snapped. "I will not tolerate you acting like child."

He decided to ignore Arthur's "child" comment. He really didn't feel like starting an argument when he was in one of his rare good moods. "As long as I'm not inside that prison you call a home, I'm good." The Brit, pleased with the Scot's answer, turned on his heel and set out down the path, Alistair in tow. With Arthur's back turned to him, Alistair let a small smile slip as they headed into town. _He too can act like a child when he wants to..._ he snickered, watching the younger man trudge through the snow, cursing every time it found its way into his boots.

The pair walked towards the town of Wilshire. He had asked Arthur a few days after he arrived what the towns name was, it surprised him that he had never heard it before. From what he had been able to gather from Arthur, it was a well off town. He followed Arthur around town while the Brit pointed out different buildings and listed off people he was close to and that Alistair would eventually meet. They neared one building when Arthur suddenly stopped. "I need to pick up something here." he said abruptly. Alistair nodded and watched as the Brit rushed into the store. He ran a hand through his red hair, peering up at the sign above, Bakery. _What the hell does the lad need here?_ he wondered.

A bell chimed overhead as Arthur pushed open the door. As he entered, he was greeted by the familiar sound of arguing.

"Jett I don't care if you were busy, the bread is still burnt either way!" a man yelled.

"I'm sorry Kiwi. I'll make a new batch right away" The man, Alistair assumed was Jett whined.

He heard the other man sigh. "Fine but make sure they aren't burnt this time."

Alistair stood there in the doorway, stunned until Arthur suddenly appeared next to him, snapping him out it. "I don't know how those two can fight like that and still live together," Arthur said with a sigh. "It confuses me..."

"I don't even know them and I'm already confused," Alistair responded. Just then a man appeared from the back of the bakery. He had light brown hair that curled upward at the ends, almost like rams horns and a set of blueish green eyes. He wore a white shirt with gray pants and shabby brown shoes.

The man seemed to lighten up when he saw who was there. "Oh! Hello, Arthur. I apologize for the wait. Jett seems to have burnt some of the bread," he said, rolling his eyes and giving a small smile as he noticed the Scot. "You must be Alistair. Arthur has told me a lot about you," he said as he greeted Alistair with an outstretched hand. Alistair stared at him for a moment before taking the hand and shaking it.

"Really? I was not aware of that," Alistair replied, peering over his shoulder to give the Brit a cold stare. Arthur shrank back slightly, trying to avoid his gaze. _Yeah you better feel guilty!_ Alistair thought bitterly.

"My name is James, by the way," The man said before turning around as another man appeared from the back, carrying a decently sized bag. "And that is Jett," he added, gesturing to the other man. Jett had dark brown hair that stuck up slightly in the front and forest green eyes. He was wearing brown shirt, gray pants and study brown boots.

"Nice ta meet ya! The names Jett!" Jett exclaimed, setting down the bag to shake the Scot's hand, a big smile on his face. "Are you this 'Alistair' we've been hearin' about lately?" he asked.

"Aye," the Scot nodded.

"Jett do you mind being a bit quieter, for the sake of their ear drums please!" James pleaded, a slight edge to his voice.

Jett drew James into a big hug. "Ok. I'll try Kiwi," he promised. James was struggling to free himself from Jett's grip but soon realized it was no use. "I'm sorry about being loud, mate" Jett apologized, releasing James to pick up the forgotten bag.

"Here's what you ordered Arthur. I hope It's to your liking," Jett said, his bright and cheery smile still plastered on his face.

"Don't worry, I always love your food," Arthur reassured, giving both of them a soft smile. _Huh. I guess Arthur really can be nice to people..._ Alistair thought.

The sun was already setting as they said their goodbyes to Jett and James and headed back to the cabin. Alistair walked beside Arthur, the silence between them beginning to bother him. After all, he did have one question that had bugged him ever since they left the bakery.

"I'm jus' wondering, what kind o' weird friendship do Jett an' James have?" he asked Arthur, breaking the silence surrounding them.

Arthur's eyes focused on him for a few moments before shifting back to the view ahead. "You know, I've got no clue..." he admitted.

Alistair smiled at the response, the Brit giving him a glare. They stared at each other for a few seconds before both of them suddenly burst out laughing. They had no idea why they were laughing, but who was there to stop them? At that moment Alistair chose to savor Arthur's true smile and laughter because who knew when they would show themselves again.

Arthur

Arthur walked into the cabin, taking off his boots as he went. Hanging up his coat he chuckled lightly, watching the ridiculous display of Alistair hooping on one foot as he struggled to pry his boot off. When the Scot heard him he shot him an unamused glare, shutting up the Brit instantly. Arthur walked over to the kitchen, retrieving some firewood and a match. Making his way over to the sitting room he knelt in front of the fireplace, placing each piece of wood in so they overlapped each other. Then he lit the match, making sure to tuck it under the wood and gently blew on it so it would catch.

The fire roared with life, filling the room in its warm glow. Arthur stood, walking over to an empty armchair, Alistair doing the same and sitting in a chair beside him. The Brit was silent, staring into the fire, watching as the flames licked the sides of the wood. He was in a trance almost, in his own little world, all outside noise jumbled and quiet. His trance was suddenly interrupted when he felt something poke him, and not in a gentle way either. Arthur snapped out of it, whipping his head around to see Alistair leaning toward him.

"Why did you do that?!" the Brit demanded. Alistair's scowled as he leaned back into his chair, his eyes still trained on Arthur.

"Well I had tae get ye back down tae earth some how," the red head smirked.

Arthur snorted. "You could have just called my name or waved a hand in front of my face, but I guess a barbarian like you doesn't have the capability of doing such an easy and harmless task."

Alistair glared at him. "Oh, does a prissy little Englishman like yerself not approve o' my actions? Does it go against that rule book o' yers, what do ye call it again? Bein' a Gentleman?" He sneered, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

"Don't you dare start making a mockery my culture. Yours on the other hand, is just revolting. The way you drink all the time and how you smoke to the extent that you may as well be mistaken for a smokestack! Your people are the definition of vulgar, they aren't capable of correct pronunciation, it is simply horrid and it shouldn't even be called English- should I go on or is that enough verbal abuse for one day?" the Brit taunted, a sly grin on his face.

Alistair growled, his eyes laced with anger. "I will rip off that shit eating grin o' yers and shove it up yer arse if ye don't drop it," he threatened, his voice thick with malice.

Arthur gulped, noting how Alistair had full intent of carrying out his threat if he didn't stop. "Ok ok I'll stop, happy now? I guess you can't handle my teasing," he said, putting his hands up in surrender.

The Scot grunted, turning his head away from the blonde. Arthur sighed, shaking his head slightly. _This is going to be a long night,_ he thought.

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 **A/N: Hello! In this chapter the boys met some interesting people, Jett and James. There will be pairings in this story but its more in the background and won't effect the story in anyway (so far... haven't decided). The pairings I have in the story are... DenNor, Prucan, Spamano, LieBel and slight Australia/New Zealand. Also just so you guys are clear, their are no boyxboy (not including Jett and James) or girlxgirl pairings, so there is Fem!Norway, Fem!Canada, Fem!South Italy and Male** **!Belarus.**

 **In the next chapter Arthur may have forgotten to tell Alistair something very important...**


	4. Chapter 3 - Directions are Important

**Character notes -** _Alistair (Scotland) Arthur (England) Vash (Switzerland) Lilli (Liechtenstein)_

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 **Directions are Important**

 **March 3rd, 1803**

"Alistair get your lazy arse out of bed!" Arthur shouted.

"I _willnae_!," the Scot shouted back.

"Alistair stop being an arsehole and get out of the damn bed or I will come in there and rip the covers off and drag you out of bed!" Arthur shot back.

There was a moment of silence as Alistair decided which was worse. "Nae, I'm good," he responded. He could hear Arthur mutter something to himself before walking away. _T_ _hank god. I thought he'd never leave._ He thought and then sighed. "I better get dressed before the lad comes back. I don't really feel like being harassed this early in the morning."

Alistair quickly got out of bed, put on some clothes and boots before grabbing his jacket from the bed post and heading into the sitting room. Arthur was sitting in one of the arm chairs, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm going to be fairly busy today preparing for spring and I won't have time to pick up my hunting gear from Vash at the blacksmiths. I'll need you to pick it up for me, is that clear?" He asked.

"Why do I have to do it?"

Arthur sighed. "You have to do it because no one else is available."

"Fine, but ye owe me for this, lad."

"Thank you. Well off you go," Arthur said, pushing Alistair out the door. The Scot rolled his eyes when he turned to see Arthur giving him a rather poorly done wave. What was he, a princess?!

As Alistair walked through the streets he soon realized that he didn't know where he was going! _What the hell! The little shit didn't even give me directions!_ He fumed. He wondered if Arthur did it on purpose. He decided he should probably go somewhere he knew. He turned the corner and headed to the bakery.

 **Arthur**

Once Alistair was out of sight Arthur started down the snowy dirt path, taking in the familiar surrounding as he went. To his left was a small white farmhouse owned by a rather _interesting_ family. On the other side of the farmhouse was a big red barn that housed a couple of horses, food, equipment and a few other animals. As he made his way toward town, the barn's red paint caught his eye. It reminded him of Alistair's hair. Now with the Scot on his mind, a thought surfaced. He had forgotten to give Alistair directions...

"Shit! I knew I was forgetting something this morning. He is going to kill me! Now calm down Arthur let's not get ahead of ourselves, hopefully Alistair will understand my mistake- Who am I kidding- I'm so screwed!" He panicked, a part of him glad no one was around to see him acting in such a way.

Turning around he sprinted back home, not wanting to cross paths with the angry Scotsman any time soon, or at least until he came home. _Now let's hope he finds the blacksmith's and comes home in a somewhat good mood,_ he thought desperately.

 **Alistair**

Alistair tried to decide what to do to with Arthur as he made his way over to the bakery. He was almost there when something barreled into him. He stumbled back and looked around, wondering what had bumped into him. He was surprised to see a small girl in a deep red dress and chin length blonde hair sitting in the dirt in front of him.

"Oh, I'm sorry" he apologized, helping her up.

"It's fine... I wasn't paying attention to where I was going" she said softly, dusting off her dress. The girl had started to walk off when Alistair remembered why he had come all this way.

"Oh, excuse me, do you know where the blacksmith's is?" He asked.

"Hm. Oh. Um... d-do you need s-something from my bruder?" she stuttered.

"I don't exactly know. I'm on an errand for my... friend, yeah that's right" he corrected. _It feels so weird_ _callin_ _' him that, but there's no way in hell I'm_ _callin_ _' him my savior._

She giggled and told him that she would take him to the blacksmith's since she was going there as well. They talked for a bit as she led him to the blacksmiths. He found out that her name was Lilli and that Vash was her older brother. Alistair had told her that he had only arrived in Wilshire about 2 weeks ago, not wanting to scare her. He left out the part about being shot. When they rounded a corner, Lilli slowed down. "That's it, right there," she pointed at a grayish building with a huge smoke stack.

Making their way over to the building, Lilli told him to wait in the workshop while she went to tell her brother that the Scot was here to pick up something. It had been a few minutes before he heard rather loud footsteps. He then watched as the door swung open to reveal a man in a green jacket, gray pants and sturdy work boots. He had chin length blonde hair, similar to his sister's and mint green eyes.

"Are you Vash?" the Scot asked.

"Yes. Lilli said you were here to pick something up," Vash said in a rather uninterested tone.

"I'm here to pick up something for Arthur," he responded.

"Oh you must be Alistair. I've heard Arthur mention you before."

"Does everyone in this town know about me?! I've only been here two weeks!" Alistair exclaimed.

"You should probably ask Arthur" he said. Vash said as he handed him a bundle that was surprisingly heavy. "Here's the stuff he asked for." He thanked Vash and headed back to the cabin.

When he got back, Arthur was already there, sitting in one of the chairs beside the warm fire. He set down the bundle and walked over to him. Getting closer he saw that the younger man was asleep.

"Well look at that, the little lad seems to have tired himself out..." He chuckled softly. He tiptoed over to Arthur's room and grabbed a blanket off the bed. He then made his way back over to Arthur and wrapped the blanket around him, making sure it would not slide off. He smiled as he gently ruffled the Brit's messy blonde hair.

"Sleep well little devil, yer gonna need it" he said softly, shuffling back to his own room. Little did he know that Arthur had been awake the whole time. Arthur sat in the armchair pulling the blanket closer to him. He gave a small smile and whispered "Good night to you too, you git." Soon after he drifted off to sleep, the smile still there.

 **The next morning**

Arthur awoke to the sound of soft singing. Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes he silently listened to the voice.

 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
 _and never brought to mind?_  
 _Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_  
 _and auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _?_

 _For auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _, my jo,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _,_  
 _we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

 _And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup!_  
 _and surely I'll be mine!_  
 _And we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

Curious to see who was singing, Arthur turned around in his chair. When his eyes focused on the source of the singing his jaw dropped. There in the kitchen was Alistair, standing in front of the stove, prodding something in a skillet as he sung softly to himself. Arthur wanted to say something but kept quiet, wanting to listen to the Scot longer. _He has a surprisingly good voice, beautiful even. I never would have imagined a brute like him could have a voice so melodic,_ he thought, leaning back into the chair and continuing to listen.

 _For auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _, my jo,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _,_  
 _we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

 _We_ _twa_ _hae_ _run about the braes,_  
 _and_ _pou'd_ _the_ _gowans_ _fine;_  
 _But we've_ _wander'd_ _mony_ _a weary fit,_  
 _sin' auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

 _For auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _, my jo,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _,_  
 _we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_.

 _We_ _twa_ _hae_ _paidl'd_ _in the burn,_  
 _frae_ _morning sun till dine;_  
 _But seas between us braid_ _hae_ _roar'd_  
 _sin' auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

Arthur could hear Alistair moving around the kitchen as he continued to sing. His feet quietly padding against the floorboards and the sound of crinkling and hissing following as the Scot prepared breakfast. _I wonder what he's cooking..._ the Brit wondered, peeking around the chair. Unfortunately the Scots broad back blocked the view of the stove, so much for the easy way. Next he sniffed the air, new and familiar scents greeting him. _I can smell eggs and toast? Um there's something else but I have no clue as to what it is,_ he thought. With the Alistair's back still turned he slid from the chair and crept over to the table, the stove and Alistair's singing muffling any noise he made.

Sitting down he rested his head against the table, watching Alistair lean over a pot and stir a mysterious substance with a wooden spoon.

 _For auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _, my jo,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _,_  
 _we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

 _And there's a hand, my trusty_ _fiere_ _!_  
 _and_ _gie's_ _a hand o' thine!_  
 _And we'll_ _tak_ _' a right_ _gude_ _-willie_ _waught_ _,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

 _For auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _, my jo,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _,_  
 _we'll_ _tak_ _' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
 _for auld_ _lang_ _syne_ _._

When the Scot finished singing Arthur felt as though it was his duty as the unintended audience to clap. He lifted his head from the table clapping slowly, the noise startling Alistair who in response to the blondes harmless gesture, jumped about a foot in the air.

Alistair's head snapped toward Arthur, his face red with fury- or embarrassment, Arthur couldn't really tell. "What the feck! Ye gave me a heart attack!" the Scot shouted, chucking a wooden spoon at him.

The blonde ducked, the spoon missing by a hair and slamming into the wall with a loud crack. Cringing at the sound the blonde turned around to assess the damage. Luckily the wall wasn't dented, the same could not be said for the spoon though which now lay broken on the floor.

Arthur gasped flinging himself down next the spoon. Carefully he picked up the broken pieces, cradling against his chest. He turned toward Alistair with a look of hatred, "You monster! How could you break such an innocent and defenseless spoon!" the Brit shouted, trying not to laugh as he did.

Alistair just stood there staring at the Brit like he was insane. "Well maybe you shouldn't sneak up on people when there cooking if you don't want any more spoons to die!" He shot back, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Well I couldn't help it, I didn't want to interrupt your beautiful singing" Arthur huffed.

The Scot paused, caught off guard by his confession. Alistair blushed slightly, embarrassed to find out he was listening. "Shut up ye brat" Alistair grumbled, walking past the Brit over to the cabinet and grabbing two sets of plates, bowls and cups. Arthur moved out of the way as the Scot balanced the china on one hand before setting in down on the table. Arthur set the table while the Scot brought the food over, placing it in the center.

They both sat down, Arthur looking over the food and spotted something that looked like a menacing black glob of sludge.

"Alistair what is **that"** he asked, pointing at the glob with disgust.

"Oh, that's Black Pudding. It's very good, trust me. It was something I used tae eat all the time when I was a wee lad," Alistair smiled, scooping some onto his plate.

"Ok. What is it made out of?" the Brit asked, not sure if he should trust Alistair's judgement.

Alistair tapped his chin in thought. "Let's see, it is made out of suet, oats, barley, a bunch of different spices-" he paused and looked at the Brit, a smug grin on his face. "And blood."

Arthur looked at him in horror, his mouth gaping. "Christ. Who in their right mind would put _blood_ in their pudding! Pudding is supposed to be kid friendly and not scar them for life!" He exclaimed.

Alistair just smirked taking a big spoonful of the pudding, slowly inched it towards his mouth. Arthur covered his eyes, not wanting to watch the Scot eat the blood filled pudding. Thinking it was over he peeked through his fingers only to find Alistair holding his spoon, the pudding still on it, and was giving him a weird look.

"If yer going tae act like a big baby I will force feed ye the pudding," Alistair stated.

That was all the motivation Arthur needed. Taking a small spoonful he quickly stuck it in his mouth, choking as he tried to get it down. When he finally swallowed it sent a shiver down his spine.

"I am never eating that again," he gagged, reaching over and grabbing the toast hoping it would get rid of the taste.

"Jus' keep tellin' yerself that," Alistair mumbled, smiling to himself as he began shoveling the pudding into his mouth.

* * *

 **A/N: This is going to be on hiatus for a little bit as I tie some loose ends, but I'm not giving up on this story! I love it too much to cast it aside to collect dust. I would also like to hear what you guys think of it so far :)**

 _ **Auf Wiedersehen für jetzt - Scottish Hills**_


	5. Chapter 4 - Children are Evil

**Chapter 4 - Children are Evil**

 **March 15th, 1803**

The snow was now beginning to melt, causing the town to become very excited as they prepared for spring. Arthur had gotten new hunting gear, made new clothes (Yes he could sew... there's nothing wrong with a man who can sew!), and he even started to clean out the house. Well tried to be is more like it. The reason for this was Alistair who wasn't the most... _productive_ person and on his own decided that he wasn't going to help. That being said, Arthur was now forced to clean the entire house on his own. It's not like he hadn't done it by himself in previous years, but he would have liked some help.

 **That Morning**

After finishing sweeping the right side of the room Arthur started to make his way over to the other. Turning around his eyes drifted over to the armchairs, only for him let out a not so manly shriek. Sitting in one of the armchairs was Alistair, a bored expression on his face as he watched the Brit fall onto the floor.

"Bloody hell! What was that for, you evil little twit!" Arthur shouted, his face turning red with anger.

"Hmmm. I didn't know ye were that jumpy. But could ye be quieter please, I just woke up" the Scot yawned. Arthur growled, he really didn't have time for Alistair's sass this morning.

Picking himself up off the floor he brushed off his pants before grabbing Alistair's wrist and dragging him out of the house.

"What the feck- Let me go!"

"No. I think we are both in need some fresh air, so let's go for a walk," the younger declared a devilish grin on his face. The Scot groaned as Arthur dragged him down the path.

When the pair entered town Arthur headed straight for the bakery, pulling an annoyed Scot along with him. "Kin ye let go now, I'm not going tae run away," Alistair smirked, looking down at where the Brit still griped his wrist.

"Oh, sorry" He apologized releasing the older man's wrist, his face turning slightly pink out of embarrassment.

He started walking again when the sound of laughter filled the air.

"ARTHUR!" He spun around at the sound of his name, only to then have the air knocked out of him as he was tackled to the ground by three small bodies. Children's bodies to be exact, internally groaning at the realization.

"Hey you damn kids get off the man!" He heard Alistair shout, feeling the weight being lifted off him. After the children were pried off of him he too was lifted up.

"Don't touch me!" the Brit spat, watching Alistair give his usual smirk as he sat him down.

"Thank you" he huffed. Looking down he saw the children staring up at Alistair, curiosity and although wanting to deny it, a small amount of fear shone in their eyes.

"Who's that?" asked a silver haired boy, pointing at Alistair. Arthur chuckled "This here is Alistair, he is staying at my house"

"Is he mean?" the boy asked shyly, hiding behind one of the Brit's legs. Arthur looked over at the Scot, a flash of hurt in his eyes. He could sympathize with the children's beliefs. He knew Alistair could be intimidating and didn't have a very kid friendly attitude, but he was an acceptable, dare he say it, good person.

"No, he isn't mean just... grumpy" He assured the kids and to his surprise the Scot gave him a thankful look.

"So would you like to introduce yourselves to Alistair?" He asked.

" _Hola!_ I'm Romano" the boy grinned. He had short chocolate brown hair, bright green eyes and an olive skin tone. Next to him stood a girl who looked almost exactly like Romano.

" _Ciao,_ I'm Romano's twin Letizia" she said softly. The silver haired boy slowly inched out from behind Arthur's legs.

"Um... M-my name i-is Emil" he stuttered. Emil was unusual, he had silver hair and eyes that were a purplish color.

"Oh and Alistair you might not want to mess with these kids, their parents can be scary" Arthur warned. He unfortunately had learned this when he was babysitting them and had taken them over to the lake to play... it did not end well. He was pretty sure that he still had a scar from that time.

"An' whys that?" Alistair asked, a confused look on his face.

Arthur was about to explain when Romano interrupted. "Momma has a very colorful? is that what they call it? -Letizia nodded - She has a very colorful vocabulary and she is very good at hand to hand combat-That's what papa says." Arthur shuddered at the thought of being punched by her again. He felt a small hand touch his arm, looking down he saw Letizia "Don't worry about Momma, she's your friend and would never hurt you" the girl said, giving him a soft comforting smile. He sighed, _well at least someone is comforting me, and it's a child_ he thought.

Letizia then told them about their papa. "Papa is very funny and always happy. I have seen him be scary before... I don't know if the man ever walked again. Also he has a big axe that he used during the war and if you ever see him carrying it around he probably isn't happy, just warning you" she smiled.

Alistair looked a little concerned about his safety and the children's state of mind at this point. Arthur on the other hand, knew Letizia and Romano were telling the truth about their family. The only thing he could think of as advice for Alistair was 'don't mess with Antonio's family' or _mis tomates,_ as Antonio like to call them.

When the twins finished explaining their own messed up family Emil started describing his. "Mommy is sometimes called the 'Ice Queen' since she doesn't like talking to people that aren't me or daddy. Mommy says they are 'a useless idiot that's incapable of doing simple tasks'… wait that's what she calls daddy... She owns the clinic and is a very good doctor. Daddy is very happy and energetic. He can be loud and ob-obnoxcious? I think that's what mommy calls it... daddy owns the tavern where Mrs. Carriedo works, that's Romano and Letizia's mommy. He is acts kind of like Mr. Carriedo, but isn't as brutal as Mr. Carriedo." Emil finished with a soft smile on his face, proud of his parents reputation.

"By the way, Emil is Alex's son. Thought you might want to know that." Arthur added.

Alistair looked shocked, obviously caught off guard by this new information. "She has a kid?!"

"Yes," the Brit insisted.

The Scot snorted. "With her attitude I thought she would be forever alone. She even hit me!" he added.

Emil stared at Alistair and smiled, it was the kind of smile that would have been classified as evil had he not been 6 years old. "You're the one mommy punched? She kept complaining saying 'you deserved it'. Mommy also said that when you get yourself shot again you might as well go die in a ditch because she isn't going to help you. If I ever see you upset Mommy again I'd go die in that ditch soon, if you know what's good for you," he said, giving Alistair a death stare.

Everyone was speechless, even Arthur. _That now proves my point on how Emil is a devil in human form._ The Brit thought to himself.


	6. Chapter 5 - Spring is here!

**Chapter 5 - Spring is here!**

 **March 21st, 1803**

The first day of spring. The town a buzz with the thought of warm weather and the first bounty of crops to be planted. Alistair had no idea why it was such a big idea. He hadn't been around normal people for so long he had forgotten what preparation for spring was like.

"Hey brat, why are ye so excited all o' a sudden?" Alistair asked, watching Arthur run around the town like a madman.

Arthur stopped abruptly, turning to face him. His face having an expression of disbelief. "It's spring you idiot! Why wouldn't I be excited?!" the Brit exclaimed.

Alistair smirked. "Well sorry if I don't understand your foreign ways."

Arthur stared at the Scot, not sure what to say. "Wait... you mean you don't know what's going on?" he asked hesitantly.

"Nae, so do ye mind doing a little explaining."

The Brit nodded, "Sure."

Alistair listened as the younger explained how the town was planning what crops to plant this year, trading, hunting, and lots of other stuff. He was amazed at how much had to be done in spring. _Wow... they have so much to do. And they do this every year!? I got to hand it to 'em, that's impressive,_ he thought.

"Hm. Interesting..." the Scot admitted.

Arthur was trying his hardest to keep himself from smiling. _I never would have thought he'd have the will to ask such a simple question. I wonder how long he's been away from civilization... I will have to tell him more about life here later,_ the Brit thought fondly.

After wandering around town for a bit the pair decided to stop by the bakery. Rounding the corner they saw Jett standing in front of the shop, waving his hand like a maniac, a big toothy grin on his face.

"Hello, Arthur! Hello, Alistair! Wonderful day, ain't it!" the Aussie called, more like yelled.

Arthur shook his head and sighed. "He'll never learn, will he?" he muttered under his breath. Alistair smirked- agreeing with his complaint.

"Yes Jett it is a wonderful day," the Brit responded, walking up to the Aussie.

"Are ya here for something?" Jett asked.

"No. Just wanted to chat," Arthur smiled, glancing over to see Alistair nod.

"Well come on in then!" Jett beamed, holding the door open for them. Closing the door behind them Jett led them into the back of the shop.

"Were are we going?" Alistair wondered.

"Oh! We're going to my house," Jett smiled, leading them over to another door. Pushing it open to reveal a small garden and short path leading to a smaller building.

"We're here!" Jett said excitedly, throwing his arms up in the air, reaching the house in only a few long strides. He held the door open, welcoming Arthur and Alistair in.

Upon entering the house Alistair could see the kitchen. It looked very similar to Arthur's and was about the same size too. The room also functioned as sitting room as well, much like Arthur's. The sitting room had a brown sofa that sat in front of a small fireplace. Over to the left there was one door, presumably the bedroom.

"Kiwi ain't home right now. I think he said something 'bout going to Antonio's and planning what crops we're havin' this year," Jett said, frowning slightly.

Alistair was surprised to see the man of seemingly endless joy, frown. When the Aussie went to get some water for them he leaned over to Arthur and whispered, "Did he just frown!?"

"I think he's sad James isn't with him," the Brit whispered back. Alistair nodded and straightened up as Jett called them over to the table.

Sitting down they started to talk. Alistair drank his water, watching Arthur and Jett discuss people and past events, but one thing caught him off guard.

Alistair choked, causing the others to give him concerned looks. "Wait, hold on a second... Jett is yer cousin?!" he coughed.

"Yeah, Arthur's my cousin" the Aussie assured. Alistair looked at him like he had two heads.

"But yer so different! One o' ye kin be sassy and has a temper an' the other is non-stop happiness an' smiles! It just doesn't make sense!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Alistair, we completely agree with you. Even after all this time we still don't know how we could ever be related," Arthur laughed.

They sat there and laughed together before another question came to the Scot.

"Hey Jett, this is something I've been wondering for a while, but why do you call James 'Kiwi'?" Alistair questioned.

Jett smiled and responded. "I call him that 'cause he's from New Zealand, it's kind of like a term of endearment." "Oh! I'm from Australia, by the way" he added.

"Hm. I guess that answers my question then," the Scot nodded.

Just then the door opened and James entered. He didn't seem to notice anyone was home and called out.

"Jett you here? You better not be asleep!" Everyone kept silent as James trudged over to the bedroom. With James' back fully turned to them Jett stealthily slid out of his chair and crept over to him. The Aussie pounced onto James scaring the shit out of him.

Alistair, Arthur and Jett burst out laughing when James let out a shriek, his face turning bright red.

"You guys are so mean!" the New Zealander shouted.


	7. Chapter 6 - The Foul-mouthed Cook

**Chapter 6 - The Foul-mouthed Cook**

 **March 21st, 1803**

Following the aftermath of the harmless prank they pulled, Alistair and Arthur were kicked out of the house. Jett wasn't kicked out because he lived there, but he would be getting an ear full of complaints from James.

Alistair and Arthur stood in front of the house, not sure what to do now. Arthur eventually came up with an idea.

"We could go to the tavern" The Brit suggested, turning his head to look at Alistair.

"I guess..." the Scot shrugged.

"Ok let's go!" Arthur smiled, pulling the red head in the direction of the tavern.

Once they got there though, the sound of glass shattering and shouting could be heard.

"HEY! IF ANY OF YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN I WILL KICK ALL YOUR SORRY ASSES AND THROW YOU OUT!" Someone roared. It sounded like a women and had a slight accent that Alistair couldn't quite place.

Arthur just shook his head and sighed before walking into the tavern, the Scot right behind him. Alistair could now see a women with long dark brown hair with a weird curl sticking out on the right side of her head. She was holding a man up by the collar, her face beat red with rage. The only thing Alistair could do was stare and think, _what the hell?!_

Noticing the new presence in the room the women looked up to see who had walked in, her face returning to its normal color when she saw who it was.

"Arthur! Where the fuck have you been! I haven't seen you for so long!" she shouted, releasing the man's collar, letting him hit the ground with a thump and walked toward them.

"I'm terribly sorry Lovina. I've been busy taking care of this twit" he said, pointing at Alistair.

Alistair snorted. "Am I really that awful?"

"Yes, you are" the Brit hissed.

The Scot gasped dramatically. "Arthur, ye wound me" he said in mock horror, a hand over his heart.

Arthur just ignored him, muttering something under his breath.

Lovina smirked. "Stop your bitching and follow me, I'll fix you up something to eat," she said, walking toward the back of the bar and into the kitchen.

Arthur and Alistair followed close behind, stepping over a couple of unconscious men in the process.

Lovina turned around and frowned. "Don't mind them, they fucking deserved it. I knocked them out for touching me. The fuckers better have the worse hangovers and bruises when they wake up."

Alistair was a little afraid of this 'Lovina' now. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the person Romano and Letizia were describing... _If it is they weren't wrong when they said she has a colorful vocabulary,_ he thought.

Alistair sat down at the counter, Arthur next to him and waited as Lovina prepared them dinner. He was surprised when Arthur turned to face him, an excited smile on his face.

"You haven't lived yet until you have tasted Lovina's pasta! It's one of the best things I've ever eaten!" he exclaimed. Just then the brunette walked in carrying three plates piled high with pasta and covered in tomato sauce.

"You better fucking like it, or I will have to kill you" she said, setting a plate in front of the Scot.

She and Arthur waited in anticipation as Alistair took the first bite. His eyes lighting up as he did.

"Wow... it is really good" he gaped. He was at a loss of words, _I never knew pasta could be this good,_ he thought.

Lovina smirked, proud that her cooking had impressed yet another person. She and Arthur started to eat as well, not stopping until it was all gone.

"I never did ask for your name, did I?" she realized, looking over at the Scot.

"It's Alistair," he said, lighting a cigar.

"Hm... I'm guessing you're the soldier the tea bastard found" she hummed

"Can you stop talking about me like I'm not here?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Calm the fuck down Arthur, _mio_ _dio_!" Lovina grumbled. _Wow she swears a lot,_ Alistair thought, blowing out a stream of smoke.

"Lovina where are ye from?" Alistair asked.

"Italy. Florence to be exact,"

 _I might as well ask her about the kids while I'm at it,_ he thought.

"Also by any chance, do ye have two kids named Romano and Letizia?" he added. Lovina looked surprised.

"Yes I do." Her eyes then suddenly went dark. "Why do you ask?" She questioned, a slight menace to her voice.

Arthur noticed her turn in attitude and interrupted. "We ran into them and Emil about a week ago. The twins described their parents and that one of them worked here, so I guess Alistair wondered if you were their mom." _Nice save_ _Arthur! She looked like she was about to kill me!_ Alistair thought, releasing the breath he had been holding in.

Lovina looked over at Arthur. "I didn't know they saw you. You could have had the decency to visit, but _no_ you can't spend time with your friends," she pouted.

"I know, I would have liked to visit if I had the time. Maybe I could visit tomorrow, is that ok?" Arthur asked.

The Italian nodded. "You can both come over. I'm sure Antonio would love to meet you, Alistair."

"Oh and Arthur don't go starting a fight with Antonio please, I don't feel like repairing the house again." she added.

"It wasn't my fault he got angry!" the Brit exclaimed.

"It was your fucking fault! I had to replace the fucking door after the _bastardo_ cut it in half!"

At this point Alistair decided it was probably best to head home before the argument got any worse.

"Bloody hell! How was I supposed to know he would go get his axe?!"

"I don't know, maybe next time you won't fucking step on the tomato plants!"

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. "I already apologized for that," he huffed.

Lovina sighed. "I know you did. I just don't want to see two people I care about try and kill each other, ok?" she stuttered slightly, her face turning red in embarrassment.

Arthur was silent. _I never would have thought she'd actually admit it, and right to my face at that... I-I don't know what to say,_ he thought.

"Shit, did your brain stop working? Were my words to much for your puny mind to handle?" She smirked.

"My brain is not puny! I am very smart I'll have you know, unlike you" Arthur sneered.

"I will take that as a compliment. I love it when you enlighten me with your back talk," the Italian said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Brit stuck out his tongue, causing Lovina to laugh.

"So mature of you Arthur."

Arthur paused and looked around, realizing they were missing someone. "Where's Alistair?" he wondered.

Lovina shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"You are always so helpful." Arthur grumbled.

"I try."

 **Later that night**

After chatting with Lovina for a little while longer Arthur decided that he should probably head back home. He was beginning to worry about Alistair, not that he would ever admit it of course. Waving goodbye to Lovina he exited the bar and back towards home. In about ten minutes the cabin came into view, light flickering in the windows as he approached. _I guess Alistair is inside then,_ he thought. He looked up at the sky, the stars glinting a cool white and an almost full moon lit up the sky. Arthur smiled as he reached the cabin, opening the front door to find Alistair laying in front of the fire, dead asleep. The Brit chuckled, noting how peaceful and calm he looked. He carefully took off his boots at the door and tip toed to his room, not wanting to disturb the sleeping red head.

Finally making it to his room Arthur quickly ripped off his thick, heavy sweater and pants, and changing into a more comfortable pair of pajamas. He sighed in relief, the sweater had been unbearably hot and became uncomfortable as the day grew hotter. He couldn't even remember why he had thought it was a good idea to wear it in the first place! He shook his head, _Well there's no point in letting myself dwell in the past, now is there?_ He thought, the bed creaking as he climbed into bed...


	8. Progress Update

**Well... it's been a while... *awkward silence***

 **As you know The Town of Red Snow is currently on hiatus, but I would like to update whoever reads this story that it will _hopefully_ be resumed in Autumn. I will never abandon this story because it is my first fanfiction ever! and its like my child. I would never abandon my own child!**

 **Right now I've been looking through the chapters, figuring out what I need to fix. So far I haven't come across any major errors (which is good!)**

 **I also plan to work on curing my 8 chapter curse. No seriously, this has already happened to three of my stories! It's so fucking annoying!**

 **Anyway, I hope that you guys will stick with me while I work on this writers block thingy.**

 **P.S. I know I don't like forcing people into things, but if you haven't already seen The Blog of Awesomeness then I highly recommend you go read it. (writing that story is a stress reliever of sorts for me)**

 _ **Auf Wiedersehen für jetzt - Scottish Hills**_


	9. Chapter 7 - The Cheerful Farmer

**Chapter 7 - The Cheerful Farmer**

 **March 22nd, 1803**

It was midafternoon when Arthur and Alistair left for Lovina's. Alistair had learned that Lovina's family owned the farm, the one he and Arthur passed when going into town. He heard Arthur swear, casting a glance over his shoulder he saw Arthur bent over, struggling to pull his foot out of the mud. It had rained the night before leaving the ground thick in mud.

"Ya need some help there, lad?" he called, a trademark smirk on his face. Arthur looked up at him with a scowl, his eyebrows furrowed.

"How kind of you to offer your services, but I will rather not rely on someone like you for help," the blonde spat, continuing to pull his leg.

Alistair scowled. "I'm trying to be nice, but I guess the English don't like that," he muttered to himself, walking back toward Arthur. The Brit didn't seem to notice Alistair sneaking up behind him as he quickly wrapped his arms around the blonde's waist. Arthur yelped in surprise and began to smack Alistair as he tried to free himself from the Scots grasp, swearing at him as he did.

"Calm the hell down ya little brat! I'm trying tae get you out o' the fecking mud!" Alistair growled, tugging the Brit upward with no success.

"You bloody Scot let go of me, I can get out of the god damn mud myself!" Arthur protested, continuing to squirm under the Scots grasp.

Alistair tightened his grip, "And look where that's gotten ye. Like it or not I'm going tae get ya out o' here."

He heard Arthur give a mumbled "fine" before his squirming ceased. "Are ye ready?" Alistair asked.

"Yes! Now get on with it already!" Arthur snapped.

Alistair pulled the Brit up with all his strength, the mud releasing its suction like hold with a loud squelch. The force knocked Alistair off balance. He staggered back as he tried to keep his footing but slipped, taking Arthur down with him.

Alistair landed in the mud, Arthur falling on top of him with a grunt. As they laid there, sprawled out in the mud, Arthur suddenly burst out laughing, rolling off Alistair and into the mud. His shoulders shaking along with his fit of laughter. Alistair stared in confusion. _This isn't like Arthur at all, did the fall knock a few screws loose or something?_ he wondered.

"Lad are you ok? Yer not going mental on me now are you?" He asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

The Brit shook his head, "No, no I'm perfectly fine. I was just imagining Lovina's face when she sees us caked in mud. He looked down to inspect shirt, frowning slightly. "Oh god, it's worse than I thought. We are absolutely filthy!" Arthur exclaimed, gesturing to both his and Alistair's clothes.

"A little mud won't do ye no harm. Come on now lad we don't want tae be late," the Scot said, pushing himself up and moving past Arthur toward the farmhouse.

Arthur trailed behind him, his thoughts drifting. His daydreaming was suddenly cut short as he ran straight into something. Stumbling back he heard a deep growl, he now knew exactly what he had run into. Slowly he looked up, eyes meeting with an annoyed pair of dark green.

"Stop spacing out and watch where yer going, brat," Alistair warned, making sure his point got across before continuing to the farmhouse.

Arthur sighed and started following him again, this time walking beside Alistair so there was no chance of bumping into him.

Once at the farmhouse they climbed the front steps, Arthur knock on the door. There was a sudden crash inside the house and a few curse words thrown in. Then the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard, growing louder as it approached the door.

The door flung open to reveal an annoyed looking Lovina, "What the fuck do- oh it's just you," she sighed, resting her head against the doorframe.

"You could of made an effort to at least sound excited to see me," Arthur scoffed.

Lovina groaned, waving him off. "I'm too fucking tired to act like I give a shit about that."

Lovina raised an eyebrow when she noticed the men's clothes. "Mother of god, what the hell happened to you!?" she exclaimed, looking over both his and Alistair mud coated bodies.

"And you just noticed this now?" Arthur joked. Lovina's gaze flicked back to him, "Don't avoid the question," she growled.

Arthur was about to answer when Alistair interrupted. "This genius got his foot stuck in the mud and was making a big fuss about it. I _graciously_ offered my help, but I guess he didn't want tae sacrifice the small amount o' pride he had left an' refused. I wouldn't take no fer an answer an' yanked him out o' the mud anyway. I may or may not have slipped in the process, dragging the brat down with me," he finished, a mocking smirk tugging on his lips.

Lovina snickered, "I like your style, Alistair."

"Don't compliment him you bloody git!" Arthur spat.

The Italian gasped, acting as though she was hurt, "You can be so mean sometimes, Arthur."

"Bugger off," he grumbled, attempting to enter the house before Lovina quickly blocked the doorway.

"Oh don't even think about stepping in my freshly cleaned house when the two of you look like **that** ," she warned.

Alistair leaned up against the railing, "Well how are we going to wash up then?" Lovina now bore an evil grin, an idea came to mind.

"Oh don't worry I have an idea." Arthur instantly turned pale, he didn't like the sound of that. In that moment the Italian left her post at the door, grabbing both Alistair and Arthur's hands and dragged them down the steps to the back of the house.

At the back of the house was a large, wooden wash tub that was placed a few feet away from the house. Right next to it was a water pump that stood at about three and a half feet. Lovina released their hands and told them to start pumping water in the tub. The two men stared in confusion as they watched Lovina run off, disappearing into the nearby shed. Alistair shrugged, "Whatever you say." He stood beside the pump, pulling the lever up and then with more force pushed down. After a few more times he began to set a rhythm, sounding off each action in his head, _up, down, up, down._

It had been a few minutes since Lovina left and Arthur was beginning to feel bored. Leaving his position next to the house he walked over to where Alistair was and sat in the grass beside the tub. Leaning over the rim of the tub he watched as the water slowly began to rise. Humming as he stuck his fingers in, the water feeling cool against his skin.

Alistair looked up from the pump to see Arthur leaning against the tub, drawing lazy circles in the water. Sunlight bounced off the surface of the water, reflecting ripples of blue against the Brits face. He looked so peaceful and innocent, something that was hard to come by now a days. Quickly he pushed away the weak sentimental emotions invading his mind, he couldn't let them get in the way. Not now.

A few metal clangs sounded from the shed, snapping Alistair back to reality.

The Brit jumped at the sound. "I'm afraid to know what she's looking for in there," he whispered, eyes now focused on the shed.

A smirk played at Alistair's lips, "Is little ol' Artie afraid o' a women?" the Scot teased.

Arthur shot him a glare, "Don't you dare mock me! I have a perfectly good reason to be afraid. After being around her for years I know exactly what she is capable of. You on the other hand, only met her yesterday so you have no right to make fun of me," he spat. "And my names _Arthur_ not Artie!"

Before Alistair could put in another insult Lovina appeared from the shed, carrying three metal buckets. Alistair glanced over at Arthur who seemed to relax a little after seeing Lovina emerge, not carrying any sort of weapon... unless buckets counted, but don't sweat the small stuff.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were dragged into the depths of the shed," Alistair joked.

Lovina rolled her eyes, setting the buckets down beside the tub. Looking over at Arthur she scowled. "I don't hear any concern coming out of your fuckin' mouth. Some friend you are."

Arthur shrugged, "Why should I? You can handle yourself just fine." Alistair could tell he was joking, he wasn't so sure if Lovina could though.

His theory was confirmed as the Italians face started to turn an angry shade of red. "You little shit!" she yelled, filling a bucket with water and dousing Arthur with it.

Arthur was frozen in shock, his mouth a gape. Alistair burst out laughing, clutching his sides. "Oh god, you look like you just drowned!" Arthur however wasn't so amused. Grabbing one of the buckets he dunked it in the water. Alistair didn't seem to realize what he was doing until it was to late. A now dripping wet Scotsmen glared at Arthur.

"What was that? I think the same could be said for you," Arthur smirked.

"Ooo looks like Arthur took you down a peg or two," Lovina snickered. "Well I'll let you two work out your differences. If you two kids need me to dry off just yell or something." Waving a good-bye she headed toward the back door.

The two men looked at each other and nodded, both having the same idea in mind. Quickly filling up their buckets they made sure Lovina's back was turned. Alistair counted to three with his fingers, both throwing water all over the Italian.

The Italian shrieked in surprise and spun around to face them, beat red with rage. "You two are so fucking dead," she growled, chasing after them. Before long all three of them were drenched, clothes heavy with water. They now sat on the porch steps to air dry themselves.

"I'm glad my kids weren't here to see that. It would have been fucking embarrassing, I mean three adults throwing water at each other just looks ridiculous," Lovina sighed.

"The original plan was for Alistair and I to wash up, we just did it in a more child-like way," Arthur added.

"Thank you Arthur for those words of wisdom," Alistair mocked. Only to have Arthur punch him in the arm, and tell him to 'shut his bloody mouth'.

As they chatted there was the familiar sound of footsteps. To Alistair's surprise Lovina perked up a bit. As the footsteps drew closer Alistair was able to see who it was. The man had an olive skin tone, though darker than Lovina's, somewhat curly chocolate brown hair and a pair of bright green eyes. He also seemed to be carrying some kind of sack.

"Lovi~ I'm home~" the man smiled, waving in their direction. Alistair was blown away by how cheerful the man sounded. _Who the hell can be that fucking happy? It's just not normal, it's probably just 'cause he's messed up in the head,_ he thought.

"What took ya so long, tomato bastard!" she shouted, getting up from her spot on the porch.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, " _Lo siento._ Lars was giving me a hard time, had to knock him out just to calm him down," the man said, not seeming to notice the two men on the porch. _Hmm so he's Spanish... then I'm not surprised he's messed up in the head. The Spanish can be so weird at times._ Alistair thought, shaking his head slightly.

Lovina looked like she was about to say something but stopped as the Spaniard's eyes turned dark.

The Spaniard glared and pointed at Arthur. "What is he doing here?" he snarled. The sudden change in the man's attitude caught Alistair off guard. He was curious how Arthur, of all people could flip the switch on this guy without even lifting a finger. _He must have a grudge or something,_ Alistair concluded.

"Antonio calm the fuck down please, I invited them over," Lovina scowled.

"Them?" Antonio asked, now noticing Alistair.

"Yes Antonio there is another person here, or were you just too oblivious to notice his presence," Arthur mocked as he gestured toward Alistair. Antonio shot Arthur a dark look that could easily be translated to 'I will kill you if you don't shut up'.

Lovina face palmed and shook her head. "Arthur, you're not helping." The Brit put his hands up as if to surrender. "So onto the shitty introductions. Antonio this is Alistair, he's the one who's staying with Arthur. He's not like eyebrows over there, so I think you will get along." Alistair heard Arthur mutter something after the last part.

Antonio smiled at the Scot before turning to Lovina. "Can I introduce myself, I have a feeling you will insult me if I let you do it," he chuckled.

"Shut the fuck up!" she snapped. "Ugh! Never mind just get on with it."

"Thank you Lovi~ I guess I will start with my name then. My name is Antonio Fernández Carriedo".

* * *

 **A/N: So I am sort of back from my long hiatus :)**

 **It still might be awhile until the next update since school is starting soon, but I will try my best.**

 _ **Auf Wiedersehen für jetzt - Scottish Hills**_


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